rozjímání
by brusinecka
Summary: rozjímání: thinking, thinking back on your choices and remembering things you left behind. AU inspired by the book Interview with a vampire


The room is cold – the blankets do not save him from the shivers creeping up his spine. A sticky, dark feelings sticks to it, like plastic and it overwhelms him. His fingers are getting a bit of a purplish hue now and they feel like someone chopped them off. The person next to him sighs, a warm cloud escaping their lips, nearly coming near enough to warm his nose – but not quite and the warmth is gone again.

"You said you had a story for me," says the woman, clearly annoyed and partly disgusted.

She wanted a juicy interview to write a long and promising story about, to make her famous, not to listen to crazed whispers of a dying person.

Will smiles, his face melting into a tiny grin and coughs out a laugh.

"I do, Miss Lounds," he rasps out, holding his blanket with dry fingers. "I would offer you some tea, but I'm not in the best state right now, as you can see."

He tries to straighten himself up but instead the pillow falls from behind his neck and Freddy ends up catching it in mid-air. She hands it to him and when their fingers touch, she flinches away. As if made of marble, the flesh is hard and freezing.

"It's fine," she nods and fakes a smile. "What did you want to tell me about?"

Will brings one shaky hand up and Freddy is just about to duck before she realizes that he's only opening the curtains.

It's dark until he lets the sunlight graze the antique, elegant furniture. Light shines through the smudged glass and Freddy turns her head to look around the room. It is quite tidy – no signs of food or dirt anywhere, only occasional spider webs. It is obvious that the bed wasn't there before – someone must have dragged it across the wooden floor which now has scratches on it. There are bookshelves in the corners, a huge table in front of a fireplace with no ash in it, two leather armchairs and a conference table. Above it there is a staircase and a balcony filled with books and papers. A lone sculpture of a stag stands guard next to the door. Overall Freddy thinks this man must have been pretty loaded before. She turns back to Will, but her eyes widen at what she sees.

His face is white – not Caucasian, but literally white, as if he was only a statue. He smiles at her and the stony contours of his face shift a little bit. Freddy is quick to fix her expression and looks collected once again.

"Sorry, that was unprofessional of me," she apologizes and takes the recorder out of her purse.

"It's fine. I'm used to it," Will claims and his eyes stare into the ground.

"So, Mr. Graham," Freddy regains her professional stance and turns the recording device on, "you claim to be a vampire."

There's a huge dose of skepticism in her voice and Will isn't surprised. He nods, twice.

"I am one. You can see it. You can feel it too. Your heartbeat is going a bit faster when you're around me – it's because you're the prey and I'm the predator in here. It's instinct. But don't worry. I won't hurt you," Will states calmly.

Freddy gulps.

"For how long have you been one then?"

"Ever since 1920. It was December back then."

The man looks thirty – fourty at max, there is no way he was alive back then.

"Were you born a vampire?" Freddy asks, already thinking of titles for the article. 'Crazed man claims to be a vampire' looks pretty good to her so far.

"No. As far as I can tell nobody is born a vampire, vampires are created only. Think of it as a mutation if you will. An illness," he says and takes a sip from the flask next to his bed. Freddy notices his pupils widen immediately.

"Who created you then?" she asks, crossing one leg over another.

"Let me get to that.

It was the year 1920 and we were basking in the glory of peace and technology. It was only the calm before the storm, I now know, but we were happy back then. I came from a wealthy family – my father was an executive in a building company and my mother's parents came from a noble European family. I grew up without any brothers or sisters, it was only me and my parents. My father was rarely home but he loved me and my mom very much. While my mother – well she stayed with us, and always took great care of me, but she never actually loved my father. She was silently disgusted with him and every time she would stay up late reading just so that she wouldn't have to go to sleep with my father. He was too dumb to realize it though.

When I grew up I started working under my father as the manager in one of the branch offices. I moved out and my mother died very soon afterwards. Her funeral was very sunny and hot, I was sweating in my suit and all the ladies in black dresses were fanning themselves. I stared at the fat priest standing next to my mother's coffin and sweating and I realized that I hated it. Hated that priest, hated my job, hated my mother and even my father, hated myself and so I packed my stuff the next day and left for studies. The first university that offered to take me in was a criminology school and so I began learning the ways of criminals and most importantly, just men of the law.

I was outstanding in each of my classes, the best at psychology – to be swift – there was no one as good as me there, so as soon as I finished studying, I got an offer from the New Jersey police to join them. I had no other occupation, nothing to do, so I did. That's where I met Jack Crawford."

"Is this the man that 'created' you?" Freddy interrupts.

"Ah no, not yet," Will smiles.

"There was a murder in the local cafeteria – the murderer killed the shop owner, severed his head and sliced it to pieces. Not only that, but it was not the first murder like that, we were told. They sent me to investigate – well we weren't the only ones there. An agent from the FBI and his team were sent – they didn't want to let me near the body. I had a disagreement with the agent – Jack – and after some convincing he let me profile the criminal. We found the murderer in a matter of days. After that Jack requested my help on more and more occasions, until I quit my job with the police and started working for Jack only.

This is when Hannibal Lecter decided to make his entrance."

"Decided?" Freddy arches one eyebrow.

"Yes. Everything that happened was a part of his plan. If there is a God, he gave all the power to Hannibal Lecter – or maybe Lecter stole it from him. I didn't know that back then of course. There was only an elegance to him that I admired.

I wish you could have seen him."

"Is he dead?"

"I killed him," Will nodded. Freddy's eyes widened and she leaned back in her seat.

"Don't look so surprised. You'll understand when I'm finished.

Anyway, doctor Lecter was a psychiatrist and he was introduced to me by Jack Crawford during one of my investigations. It was the Minnesota Shrike. Did you hear about that one? It's quite famous, old Hobbs liked to put on a show. Hannibal was intrigued by me, by the way I could easily become one with the killer's mind. He helped with the investigation but he spent an awful lot of time talking to me, being with me.

It went as far as him starting to have sessions with me. In this house, in this room, we would meet and talk. He was a very smart, charming man and so the conversations were mostly pleasant.

One day I was going home, it was dark already and I was thinking about the shrike. A hand grabbed me by my coat and dragged me into an alleyway. The hand was strong – I couldn't fight it off. When I reached for my gun, the person had already thrown it away. And when I looked at the man, I saw Lecter – it was him – the same suit, the same serene expression and the same golden hair. He grabbed me by the collar and did something very unexpected. I felt the rawness of two teeth biting into my flesh. There was the warmth of blood but it was being drained so fast and when he finally stopped sucking, I was already out of it."


End file.
